Comes Around
by Kazzy
Summary: It’s been a year since Voldemort was defeated by Harry. Then a something surprising arrives and Harry realises he’s going to have a whole lot more to deal with. New Chapter: “That’s my mother! Be careful who you are calling a ‘dark trick’!”
1. What is Found

**Title – **Comes Around  
** Author – **Kazzy  
** E-mail address – **Rating – PG  
**Spoilers – **Half Blood Prince**  
Category – **AU, angst  
**Summary – **It's been a year since Voldemort was defeated by Harry. Most of the Wizarding community has moved on, but for those who were personally involved it's a bit harder. Then a something surprising arrives and Harry realises he's going to have a whole lot more to deal with now.  
**Disclaimer – **Rowling lives on the opposite side of the world from me. You actually can't get much further away from my home than she is right now. So out of all the people in the world, I most definitely cannot claim to own Harry Potter or anything else in the wizarding world.

**Notes –** Hmmm, yes. Well, what can I say? This plot bunny spoke to me. 

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_I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge -- that myth is more potent than history. I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts -- That hope always triumphs over experience -- That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death. –Robert Fulghum_

_Happy or unhappy, families are all mysterious. We have only to imagine how differently we would be described --and will be, after our deaths --by each of the family members who believe they know us. – Gloria Steinem_  
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**Chapter One**

"Stupify!" The Death Eater Harry had been chasing (one of the few left to round up) collapsed unconscious on to the field.

"Well done, Harry," said Tonks brightly from beside him, and they both walked forward to examine and tie up their quarry.

Harry didn't bother responding to her remark. It wasn't as though the Death Eater was any good as a fighter. Lumbering and stupid, Gregory Goyle was not exactly a difficult person to catch. It was only because he'd been hiding out, acting as a personal guard to Lucius Malfoy, well away from the Order of Phoenix, and the Aurors, that he'd escaped capture this long.

Tonk's wand emitted a series of brightly coloured ropes to tie Goyle up, and Harry nudged his former schoolmate with his foot. Intelligent, he might not be, but no one would deny as a personal bodyguard to Lucius, Goyle might hold important information to capture one of the leaders of the Death Eaters.

Still, it seemed sort of ridiculous to be rounding up in the inept remains of the dead Dark Lord's followers. Even more so than they had been nearly eighteen years ago, they were defeated. Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange being the only real challenge. The new self-styled Dark Lord had his own domain and was certainly causing trouble, but no one had any doubt it wouldn't be long before he was caught and this nonsense would be over.

This was the only work available to Harry currently. Like Ron and Hermione he had not done his N.E.W.T exams, and so could not reach his goal of being an Auror. They had spent that year hunting down horcruxes and finally defeating Voldemort. Now all Harry could do was aid the Order in eradicating the last of the Death Eaters and try and promote the healing of a badly damaged magical people.

Malfoy and Lestrange were powerful enemies, but their followers were not exactly all that useful to them. The best and brightest (if you could call Death Eaters that) had been destroyed in the war. Not even Draco Malfoy had survived, and Harry suspected that was the death that Lucius felt the most. Not because he loved Draco especially, but because Draco had at least some talent and leadership skills. Unlike Gregory Goyle, who was right now being taken back to the Ministry of Magic for questioning.

Harry watched Tonks tiredly, letting her take over for the sake of legalities. He wondered if all these little mop-up jobs would ever be over, and what he would do if they were. He had spent so much of his life to date fighting that once even this relatively dull job was over he could go on and live a normal life. The concept seemed so strange.

"You all right, Harry?" Tonks came up beside him. She would need to finish this without him. Harry had no official capacity here.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he asked, turning to face her in concern. "You were pretty sick this morning."

"Fine," said Tonks, not quite meeting his eyes. "Probably just ate something bad yesterday."

It was unlike Tonks to be so indirect, and it made Harry suspicious but he didn't say anything. He hoped that everything was all right for her and Lupin. There was a relationship that had gone from strength to strength, and it warmed Harry to see the way his friends were all beginning to show signs of moving on with life. It gave him hope that someday he might be entitled to a happy life too.

If they finally managed to put an end to Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, of course.

"Harry!" His head whipped up as the frantic call grabbed his attention. "Harry!" Hermione was running towards him at full tilt, hair flying behind her. When she stopped in front of him, he took in the frantic expression on her face and wondered instantly what was wrong.

"Harry! You've got to come immediately!"

"Hermione? What? What is it? Where?" he asked worried, if something had happened… but they were so careful right now, unlike the series of mishaps after the war. Too many people had been so exultant that Voldemort was gone that they'd forgotten some of his supporters were still more than happy to take them all out. They'd lost several valuable people that way.

"Grimmauld Place. Quickly!"

"Hermione, what is it?" Was there something wrong with one of the Weasleys? Was it Ron? Ginny?

"Oh, Harry, it's… it's… Oh, you just have to come!" Harry and Tonks exchanged glances.

"Hermione…"

"Please, Harry?"

Staying just long enough to make sure that Tonks was able to cope with Goyle (like that was a hard task), Harry and Hermione quickly Apparated to the kitchen in 12 Grimmauld Place. It was still not Harry's preferred method of travelling, but when speed was called for, it was certainly convenient.

Ginny met them, wringing her hands. She spared a quick kiss for Harry and then drew back nervously and focused on Hermione. "We put her upstairs. Lupin is sitting with her right now, but she's still unconscious and Mum's on her way. Did you tell him?" she flicked her head at Harry.

"No, I didn't know what to say. How do you tell someone something like that?"

Ginny shook her head quickly and glanced nervously at Harry, who by now was starting to get impatient. He had never had the best temper and it hadn't been improved by the fact that he'd been woken early that morning to the sounds of Tonks throwing up, and the fact that in the last week the only Death Eater they'd managed to capture was _Gregory_ _Goyle_.

"What is going on?" he said through gritted teeth.

But Ginny was shaking her head. "Oh Harry, maybe you better come up and see for yourself," she said.

"Maybe I better," he answered grimly.

He followed Ginny up the stairs silently, Hermione following behind that. None of them said a word, which was probably just as well, because Harry didn't feel like dealing with Mrs. Black should she be disturbed. This had been the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for nearly four years and Harry's property for three of those years, but still no one had managed to unstick her, or the Black family tree. Harry was beginning to doubt that they ever would.

They reached the floor that the majority of the bedrooms were and Harry was lead along the hall until they were at the door opposite Lupin and Tonk's and next to Ginny's.

Ginny tapped lightly, and they heard Lupin's response, muffled, from the inside. Wringing her hands again, the red head turned to Harry. "Harry, we don't know how to explain this, how it happened. She just appeared here a couple of hours ago."

The nervousness of his girlfriend was starting to get to him, and Harry sought to comfort her. He reached a hand out to touch her arm. "Ginny…"

She just looked up at him sadly. "Just be prepared Harry, it's not what you think."

With that she pushed the door open to reveal Lupin sitting beside a bed, holding the hand of an unconscious woman that Harry had no real recollection of, but whose face was burned in his memory anyway.

Lily Evans Potter.

"Mum—wha…what?" He looked to Lupin for answers.

"I don't know what happened Harry, why – or _how_ – she's here, but it's definitely her," his old teacher told him softly.

Harry's knees went weak and he grabbed at the doorframe to keep from sinking to his knees. The whole world receded as he could focus only on the woman in the bed. Beside him, someone wrapped their arm around his waist to support him as he walked towards the bed. Ginny, he supposed, but he couldn't see her. Couldn't see anyone except the prone form of his mother.

He looked down at her drinking in the details. She appeared older than any of the pictures he'd ever seen of her. She looked around the age Lupin was supposed to be – but always seemed older than – around the age she would have been if she had not died. She was not especially beautiful, but there was definitely a curious beauty about her anyway. Harry could see a resemblance to Petunia Dursley, but where on his aunt the features were hard, unforgiving and plain, on his mother they looked strong and determined, refined almost.

In her face, he could see only a slight similarity to his own, but then he knew he physically most resembled his father.

"Where did she come from?" he asked and was surprised to find his voice rough. Not angry, but forced, as if it had to be pushed passed a restriction in his throat.

"Neighbours reported a disturbance at your home in Godric's Hollow. When we investigated we found her upstairs there." Lupin said quietly, and Harry was able to regain enough of his senses to look over at the older man.

It always amazed Harry that he who had once lived in a cupboard under the stairs now owned two homes. He usually lived at Grimmauld Place, because it was closer to the places he needed to be. Also, Godric's Hollow, allowed to slowly disintegrate over the years, still needed significant repairs to make it a comfortable place to live. For all its dark madness, at least the Black mansion was warm and dry.

But right now that was neither here nor there. What was important was the woman in front of him, slumbering peacefully. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing so far as we can tell," Ginny answered. "Madam Pomfrey – we didn't want to take her to St. Mungo's if we didn't have to – thinks she's probably just unconscious and she'll wake at any time." Harry nodded, registering the words and filing them away, but tracing over his mothers features with his eyes just to make sure he couldn't see some other malady that the others had missed.

Physically, she looked just fine. He reached out and took her hand noticing how warm and soft it was. It remained slack in his grasp.

"Harry?" Hermione was still standing quietly in the door watching the scene before her.

"Can I be alone with her for a while?" he asked hoarsely.

They all mumbled their agreements and began to move out. Ginny kissed his cheek, and Lupin briefly came around and squeezed his shoulder. "We'll be downstairs if you need us, Harry."

Distracted, Harry nodded, and went back to staring at the woman in front of him, still trying to disturb the shock of seeing who was in front of him, and wondering how it had come to be. All thoughts of Tonks' mysterious illness, capturing Death Eaters, and his worries about the future had been wiped from his mind.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but it was long enough for Mrs. Weasley to come up, and fuss over him, leave him some food, which he ignored, despite her admonishments when she came up to collect the trays. She clucked her tongue at him and cast several worried looks at the woman on the bed.

Ginny checked in on him twice, but he gave her no more than a cursory response to anything she said or did. The second time she sighed and left him alone. Harry sat on. At some point, Lupin came up and offered to relieve Harry so he could get some rest, but Harry refused. Eighteen years without a mother and even sitting beside her unconscious form was better than missing a single second to have a bath, or a quick nap.

It was sometime deep in the night, when everyone else had retired that everything changed. Lily opened her eyes, blinking in the dimly lit room and looking around her. Her gaze settled on Harry and she frowned.

"James?" she asked.

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**_Please Review!_**


	2. Sleepers Wake

**Summary – **It's been a year since Voldemort was defeated by Harry. Most of the Wizarding community has moved on, but for those who were personally involved it's a bit harder. Then a something surprising arrives and Harry realises he's going to have a whole lot more to deal with now. _"I want answers Remus. If you are Remus Lupin."_

**Disclaimer – **Rowling lives on the opposite side of the world from me. You actually can't get much further away from my home than she is right now. So out of all the people in the world, I most definitely cannot claim to own Harry Potter or anything else in the wizarding world.

**Notes – **Hmmm, yes. Well, what can I say? This plot bunny spoke to me. 

A huge big thanks to _Jedi_ _Keladry_ (good to see you again! How are you?), _redhairnightmare_, _hikarisailorcat_, _aa900_, _korrd_, _amrawo_, _vero_, _Jeni_-_nite_ (hey sis), _Mariann's_ (you'd think that wouldn't you, but we'll see what we can do about it), _mdx1_, _shade_, _Jess_-_88_, _Calen_ (well, it won't be a focus as Ginny doesn't have a big part, but they will be together), _Red_ _Ranger_ _Chick_, _Kazaam'sMom._

You guys are fantastic:-)

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Lily Potter had such a thumping headache that she just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but something drew her back to consciousness, there was something not quite right. The bed, the room…what?

With an effort she lifted her heavy eyelids and blinked adjusting the lighting in the room, provided largely by a few lamps on a low setting. The room was instantly unfamiliar, but it looked like she was in a magical home, which was both reassuring and frightening depending on whose home it might be.

Very slowly she took in her surroundings, finally he gaze settled on the young man beside her bed. His familiar face momentarily fooled her. "James?"

The young man was startled, but even before he spoke Lily was picking out the differences in the young man from the one she had married. This man was younger than James, taller, slighter. He had James' messy hair, but unlike her husband it looked like he attempted to control the wildness. Lastly, even in the shadows, behind his glasses, Lily could see that he vivid green eyes so like her own.

"I'm afraid not," he said softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of pain that Lily couldn't begin to comprehend. She had enough time to reflect that his voice to wasn't like her husband's, at once both harder and lighter, more uncertain. But right then he dropped a bombshell on her that she hadn't expected. "I'm Harry."

Shock flooded her senses. This man in front of her was at least eighteen, possibly older. Her Harry was just a baby, a tiny little boy, not quite a year old. But at the same time… then everything clarified in a rush of terrifying memories. Baby Harry, Voldemort's arrival, James shouting, herself screaming, sinister laughter, then nothing but silence.

Denial flooded her and she shook her head. "No! This is a trick. Where's Voldemort and what has he done with my son? Where's my husband? Who are you?"

She was shouting at the young man, who was now looking at her with confused tears in his eyes. For someone who was acting, she supposed he was very good.

"Mum…Mum! No! Listen to me! I'm Harry!" He reached for her hands but she shoved him away, convinced he was some kind of trick sent by Voldemort to get her tell the secrets of the Order, secrets that even Peter didn't know…

"No!" she shouted. "Don't touch me!"

Suddenly the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a bang, and instinctively Lily cringed away, afraid of who might be there.

To her surprise the man who stood there was not who she suspected – who had she been expecting? Voldemort? – but someone who was familiar and strange at the same time. He pushed past 'Harry', but not unkindly. Neither of the two women who followed him in were familiar to Lily. One had bright purple hair and wore what looked like a man's shirt, and a pair of ragged pants, the other had red hair and silk pyjamas on. But Lily's focus was on the man.

He was familiar, but not. And it took her a few seconds to work through the confusing jumble of memories to pull his name forward. It was not that she didn't know him well – she did – but that he was not who she remembered him to be.

The man before her was _old_. There was silver in his light brown hair, and his face was careworn, showing the marks of someone who had lived a hard life.

"Remus?" she asked, confused.

"Hello, Lily," he said gently.

"What…what's going on?" she felt herself calming down. Remus Lupin, despite his strange appearance, was someone she could trust.

"We're just trying to figure that out actually."

"Where's Voldemort?" Glances were exchanged, and Lily was unsure now who she could trust. They'd thought that Remus might be betraying them, but then he couldn't be, because he wasn't their secret keeper, Peter had been… Peter had betrayed her and James and Harry…

"Where's James? Where's Harry?"

Lupin looked floored for a moment and 'Harry' looked hurt, then the young man's face hardened and he shook off the arm the young redheaded young woman had placed on his arm.

"Lily, I don't know how to tell you this, but that's Harry." He indicated 'Harry' who was standing to one side.

"No! No, you're lying!" she accused feeling the heavy weight of the truth beginning to settle on her despite the denials she was throwing around.

With a low growl the young man spun and strode out of the room. She couldn't help but notice that his steps were graceful and cat quiet, the way James' had become recently…

Lupin looked up, "Ginny would you…?" but the young redhead was already following 'Harry' out of the room in a manner that was no less graceful or quiet.

"Where's James? Where's my husband? What have you done with him? Where is _my son_?"

For a second, Lupin looked at a loss, then he turned to the other woman in the room. "Tonks can you wake Molly and tell her that Lily is awake and that some soup or a cup of tea might be in order."

"Of course," then she and her bright purple hair was gone.

"I want answers Remus. If you are Remus Lupin."

"Oh, I assure you, I'm most certainly myself," this strange old man with Remus' face said. "Lily, I know it's hard to understand, but I need you to listen…"

"As you tell me more of _his_ lies," she hissed angrily.

"No, as I tell you everything that has happened in the last eighteen years," he told her with his gentle, but now some sternness had crept in.

"Eighteen years?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes, Lily. You've been dead nearly eighteen years – or we believed you to be dead, anyway. That young man who was in here _is_ your son, Harry, and he's been through a lot in the time you've been gone. It may be hard to accept, but try not to hurt him too much while you do."

Lily's mouth tightened at the rebuke, but she didn't say anything, instead turning the topic away from the young man with James' face and her own eyes. "James?" she asked, but knowing the answer.

"Oh Lily," he sighed, and paused looking tired. "He died the same night you did." The pain was immense and it took her long moments to try and work through it. Yes, James had died: he never would have let Voldemort through to her and their son had there been breath in his body. Remus took her hand and rubbed her fingers softly, comforting her.

"Why didn't Harry die then?" she asked, her heart feeling heavy in her chest.

"No one really knows – although Dumbledore had some interesting theories on that one."

"Had?"

"He died more than two years ago now."

The blow hit Lily, not only James, but Dumbledore? "How?" she whispered.

"Snape," Lupin hissed angrily, but said no more.

Just then an older woman with fading red hair bustled in, and Lily identified her as Molly Weasley. She hadn't known the other woman well, but she'd met her a couple of times. If Lily remembered rightly she had a number of sons, one who was the same age as Harry – grown now, if Lupin's story was to be believed, and evidence was starting to point that way.

"Oh hello, dear," said Molly. "How are you feeling? It must have been a pretty nasty shock to wake up here. But I've brought you something to eat and drink and that'll help."

Lily accepted the tray, but did not eat the food. She had been around Moody too long; she knew that all kinds of things could be in the food or drink, things like Veritaserum, or worse.

"It's all right, Lily, there's no poison in the food. I'll test it if you like," Lupin said. But Lily shook her head. It could be a bluff, but she was beginning to suspect not.

"Where Harry?" asked Molly, a note of worry in her voice.

"Ah, Lily was a bit confused when she woke up, and you know how Harry is, but I doubt he's far away. Ginny's gone to look for him."

"Hmmm." Molly frowned and gave Lily a hard look. "I'll leave you be, shall I?" she asked a little abruptly.

"I think that's best, yes. Goodnight, Molly." The older woman nodded sharply and scuttled out of the room. When she was gone, shutting the door behind her, Lupin sighed and turned to Lily. "Don't mind Molly, her heart's in the right place, but she adores Harry. She just doesn't want to see him hurt."

Tentatively, Lily took a bite of the toast set in front of her, and it tasted surprisingly good. Crunchy with plenty of butter. The soup looked good as well, and smelled divine.

"That's really Harry?" she asked in a small voice, placing the toast back on the tray.

"It really is."

"But he's so big…"

"He's grown up a lot since you last saw him, Lily." Yes, he would have. He'd been a baby last time she had seen him. He'd just started to walk, only managing a few clumsy steps before collapsing on his backside, clapping his hands with delight. Such a bright cheerful little boy against such dark times. What had she missed?

"What's happened?" she asked in despair.

"Voldemort—"

"Is dead and gone," announced a voice from a door that Lily hadn't noticed opening. Harry. Behind him stood the young redhead – Ginny…Weasley? Maybe. "For real this time."

The words were strange. "For real?"

"The night you and James were killed—" it was strange to hear someone speak of your death to your face— "he disappeared, defeated. Most people believed he was dead," Remus said. "But he rose again. He was destroyed, completely, about a year ago."

Remus glanced at Harry, but the young man's face remained blank, unreadable. Ginny was stiff, and she shot a look first at Harry, then at Lupin, frowning. There was something in her face that said there was more to that story than the other two were saying. But the young woman sighed and shook her head.

"I'll leave you alone, should I?" she asked, almost mirroring her mother's words. Then she stood on tiptoe to kiss Harry on the cheek and turned to leave. "I'll see you in the morning, Harry."

"'Night Ginny," he answered absentmindedly. Lily understood with a jolt that the young woman was her son's girlfriend. _My son_. For the first time, she realised that as strange as it seemed she was beginning to accept that this quiet, sad young man was her son.

She looked up at him and said quietly. "Hello Harry."

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**_Please review – your thoughts are always valued, whether they be good, bad or crazy._**


	3. Midnight Rendezvous

**Summary – **It's been a year since Voldemort was defeated by Harry. Most of the Wizarding community has moved on, but for those who were personally involved it's a bit harder. Then a something surprising arrives and Harry realises he's going to have a whole lot more to deal with now. "_Why would _The Daily Prophet_ be saying anything about Harry?"_

**Disclaimer – **Rowling lives on the opposite side of the world from me. You actually can't get much further away from my home than she is right now. So out of all the people in the world, I most definitely cannot claim to own Harry Potter or anything else in the wizarding world.

**Notes – **Minor language warning here!

Huge big thanks to all my readers! _Jedi__Keladry_ (Lily was dead, the real question is why is she alive again?), _vero_ (we'll get to that, but right now I get the feeling that Lily's repressing a little), _amrawo_ (hope I don't disappoint!), _korrd_ (not married no, just dating), _Kazaam's Mom, Willow Ann Rover, Jenn_ (I hope you like this better), _Pleione,_ _2InsanitiesIn1, Julia_ (I just like to mix things up a little – glad it's interesting).

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When Ginny found Harry, he had been standing in what was Sirius' old room. The room had not been changed since Sirius had lived in there, although it was a great deal tidier. Someone, most likely Mrs. Weasley, had done a good job in here. But Harry could still sense his godfather in here as if Sirius had never died.

There were pictures of Harry on the dresser, both as a baby and a clipping from _The Daily Prophet_ during the Triwizard tournament. There were also pictures from Harry's parents wedding, displaying James, Lily, Sirius, Lupin, other members of the Order of the Phoenix, and even Peter. A picture of the Marauders, who were chasing each other around the grounds of Hogwarts. Sirius had never been the sentimental type, but Harry guessed there were a few things even he needed to remember sometimes. The young man reflected that with as much darkness and pain that had existed in Sirius' life, he must have needed to know that there were times when everything was not as bleak as they once were.

Harry looked over the pictures of his parents and Sirius, ignoring Peter. He still hated that Peter had betrayed his parents, but the rat had been dead for eighteen months now, so Harry tried not to notice. Particularly, he studied his mother. The picture was familiar to him, he had seem it often enough in his own album, he knew every line and trace of her face and his father's, but still he looked harder, trying to figure out how she could refuse to have anything to do with him.

"She's had a big shock," said a soft voice from the door. "It can't be easy waking up to find the baby you thought you had is now an adult. Not to mention the way she died. Give her time, Harry."

He looked up at Ginny, standing in her pyjamas. At some point, she had fetched a robe and had wrapped it around herself. It was not a cold night, but nor was it particularly warm.

She glided over to him, standing beside him, but not touching him, and looked down at the picture in his hands. She too was familiar with it. Not as much as him, but she had seen it before more than once. After a few minutes she took the picture from him and replaced it on the dresser, before turning back to him and gently taking his hands in hers, gripping them firmly, rubbing his icy fingers with her warm ones. He let her comfort him in this way, it was why he loved Ginny – she always knew what he needed, when he needed to be alone, or when he needed her to be with him, hold him and tell him he'd be all right. How could he have missed this when he was at school, for so long?

Harry wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face in her hair, smelling her sweet scent. She held him tightly, and rubbed his back. Few people knew how alone he felt all the time, but Ginny did, and he was always warmed by her presence. Silently, he let a few tears fall, knowing that he was with the one person to whom it was safe to do so in front of.

"She loved you, Harry. Still does I bet, but she's scared – wouldn't you be? She feels like she can't trust anything around her. You lived in the war, you know what it's like to realise that suddenly you can't trust the people you thought you could, and everything falls around your feet."

"But why does she have to say I'm not her son?" he asked, feeling ridiculous for doing so.

"She's in shock. Give her a little bit, let Lupin explain to her – you know he's good at that, and then go and see her again. Let her get used to the idea that the baby she left yesterday is the 'Chosen One' who destroyed Voldemort for good."

They sat together on Sirius' bed, quietly for a long time, not speaking, but Ginny holding Harry, offering him silent comfort, and he sat beside her lost in thought. Finally, he sighed.

"I need to go see her again," he said softly.

"She may not be ready yet," Ginny pointed out.

"I know, but I need to see her again."

"All right." She stood and took his hand and together they walked back to the room where his mother was currently staying.

At the door he could hear his mother and Lupin talking and he opened the door quietly to find her sitting on the bed, nibbling at some food – Mrs. Weasley had obviously been up and about – trying to wrap her mind around what Lupin was saying.

"What's happened?" she was asking in despair.

"Voldemort—" Lupin began.

"Is dead and gone," Harry announced and Lily looked up sharply, apparently unaware that he had arrived. Lupin, with his sensitive wolf hearing wouldn't have missed it, and looked up slowly, giving Harry a slight nod. Lily's eyes slid to Ginny, possibly wondering who she was. Harry carried on, wanting to clarify his statement. "For real this time."

"For real?" his mother rolled the words off her tongue, sounding confused, and Harry didn't blame her. He found it a difficult concept at times. But he'd destroyed every last Horcrux, and then Voldemort himself, so he could be sure.

"The night you and James were killed, he disappeared, defeated. Most people believed he was dead," Lupin said. "But he rose again. He was destroyed, completely, about a year ago."

Lupin glanced at Harry, questioning, but Harry could give him no answer, he didn't know if he wanted his mother to know everything that had happened with Voldemort. She seemed to having trouble accepting things as they were, he didn't want to add to her confusion.

"I'll leave you alone, should I?" Ginny asked, and Harry looked at her, grateful. She kissed Harry on the cheek and turned to leave. "I'll see you in the morning, Harry." As much as he appreciated the comfort she could give this was something he needed to do without her.

"'Night Ginny," he answered absentmindedly.

His mother was watching Ginny, with surprise on her face and he wondered what she was thinking, but decided it didn't matter. He turned to look at her and gazed back, pain and curiosity warring on her face.

"Hello Harry," she said softly, and something burst inside of him. Had he been any younger, been through even a little less grief, he might have run to her, but too many people had left him in his short life and he stayed where he was for a moment.

"Hello, Mum," he said softly.

"May I see you better, Harry?" she asked, and he nodded and stepped out of the shadowy doorway into the still dim light of the room.

She looked at him for several long minutes and tears filled her eyes. "You look so much like your father," she whispered. In recent years, Harry had heard that particular phrase so many times that he was now inclined to snap back a quick retort. But he squashed his impulse, not wanting to hurt his mother.

"So they tell me," he said softly instead, and caught a brief glance at Lupin's approving face. He had heard Harry's often rude comments before, and was probably glad that he had refrained himself this time.

"I'm sorry, about before," she told him softly. "It's just hard to believe that you are so grown up now, when the last time I saw you were—"

"—a baby. I know. It's all right," he reassured her, although it wasn't really all right. It would be though, so he considered the point moot. Sitting back down in the chair beside her, he folded his hands in his lap.

"Are you, all right?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered. "Everything is different, changed. I suppose there's been so much that has happened, especially if Voldemort has been defeated – twice. And your father…" her voice trailed off painfully for a moment and Harry realised that although he had lived with his parents death almost his entire life, for his mother her husband had only just been brutally murdered by Voldemort.

Gently, he reached out and gripped her hand. Her fingers curled around his, and she gave him a grateful look as she visibly pulled herself together. Across the bed, Lupin gave Harry a small smile.

"Perhaps if we explained to you what happened, if you're not too tired…" Lupin said softly.

"I think that would be a good idea," Lily managed.

"As I explained, Voldemort was believed destroyed when you died. But Harry here lived." _The Boy Who Lived_. "Dumbledore thought it best that Harry go and live with your sister—"

"_What!"_ hissed Harry's mother. "He thought it was best to send my baby to that small-minded bitch, her idiot husband and that spoiled brat?" Harry was shocked at the language, although he couldn't disagree with the sentiment. "What about Sirius – his godfather? That was what our Will said, Remus. Why didn't Harry go to Sirius?"

Lupin looked helpless for a moment, small and old, and Harry could see him wondering how to tell Lily what had happened to Sirius. So Harry stepped in.

"He couldn't have me because he was in Azkaban."

"Azkaban? Why was he there?" she asked, and then Harry could see the dawning comprehension. "They thought it was him," she said heavily. "They thought he betrayed us when it was really—"

"—Peter," Harry finished for her. "Yeah, we found out after Sirius escaped." He still felt a mixture of burning rage and grief at thought of all the time he had lost with his godfather, everything that had been stolen from him first by Peter Pettigrew then by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"He escaped from Azkaban?" Lily's voice was incredulous, but the way she squeezed Harry's hand let him know she hadn't missed his pain.

Quickly, Lupin explained what had happened and how Sirius had escaped and the year that had followed, ending with Sirius underground and Harry back at his aunt and uncle's.

"Where's Sirius now?"

When neither answered, her eyes filled with tears again, and this time so did Harry's. "How?" she whispered.

"Bellatrix Lestrange killed him," Lupin said, sadly. "He died bravely, the way he would have wanted to go, but…" he trailed off, not needing to say more. Sirius shouldn't have had to die, certainly not like that.

A long time passed, until any of them were able to speak, but at last Lily found her voice. "What about Voldemort? What happened? And Dumbledore?"

Harry picked up the story once again. "Voldemort rose again at the end of my fourth year." He did not bother with explaining the Triwizard tournament, or Cedric Diggory's death, or the spectres he'd seen during his confrontation with the Dark Lord. "For a long time no one believed us. They were too afraid." Harry didn't try to keep the scorn out of his voice.

"Us?"

"Me and Dumbledore and the rest of the Order."

"They thought Harry was making it up, that he was going crazy."

"Why would anyone think that? And why would Harry know more than anyone?" Lily asked.

"Because I was there when he was defeated the first time, he needed me to complete the ritual to bring him back to life properly. No one believed them because of what _The Daily Prophet_ had been saying about me." And the Ministry of Magic wondered why he still wouldn't help them.

"Why would _The Daily Prophet_ be saying anything about Harry?"

"Harry's gathered quite a reputation in his life, starting with Voldemort's first death. In the year leading up to Voldemort's rebirth, he managed to annoy one of the _Prophet's_ writers so much that the things she was printing made him look bad. Then as no one wanted to believe Voldemort was back, despite evidence to the contrary, well, he was discredited and so was Dumbledore."

"So Voldemort was back and no one really cared?" Lily was aghast.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Sirius had to die before they believed. And then they cleared his name too." His lip curled, and Lupin sent him a warning look.

"Then what, how did they destroy Voldemort, and what happened to Dumbledore – did he kill Voldemort?"

"No," said Harry, but didn't say more.

"Dumbledore was killed by Snape. We've never been completely sure why. Snape took his secrets to the grave. For years Dumbledore told us Snape could be trusted, but from what we can tell he then made an unbreakable oath to Narcissa Malfoy to protect her son, and in order to keep that he killed Dumbledore. We think he personally sabotaged some of Voldemort's protection before he was killed for his betrayal." Harry glowered but said nothing. He would never forgive Snape.

"But how could _Snape_ kill _Dumbledore_? Sure he was powerful, but not that powerful."

Lupin sent a look at Harry, before answering – even here Harry had never given everyone all the answers. "Dumbledore was severely injured in the war, enough that his defences were weakened. Some even say that he allowed Snape to do it—"

"They weren't there. They didn't see it happen!" hissed Harry.

"Of course, some have a different opinion," Lupin finished.

"Harry?" asked Lily softly, but Harry was shaking it off, it was a long time ago now. Two years was more than enough time. Lupin was right: Snape was dead. What had Hermione said a few months ago? _Let the dead bury the dead._

Lily sighed. "What happened to Voldemort?" she asked quietly, and Harry despite knowing the question would come up closed his eyes, and looked down.

"There's only one person who can tell us about that day," Lupin said quietly, sadly. "But for reasons of his own, he has yet to do so. All evidence points to the Dark Lord being dead and gone. Now we just have to wait for the one who defeated him to be ready to say what happened that day."

"Who?" Lily asked in all innocence.

Harry didn't respond, and Lupin remained silent, although Harry could feel his old teacher's eyes resting heavily on him. It was true what Lupin said. He had told parts of what had happened that day, mostly to Ron or Hermione, but the bulk of the details he kept to himself.

"Remus?" Lily asked again, this time there was a weight in her tone, like she suspected.

"He will tell us when he is ready, Lily. But right now, Harry has his own reasons for keeping those secrets."

The startled gasp told Harry that this mother understood what Lupin had just said. Her fingers tightened around his hands almost painfully. Harry kept his eyes steadily down, not looking up, not knowing how.

"Harry?" asked his mother. "Harry?"

His tongue was made of lead and his body had been turned to stone, so Harry Potter could not say anything or even look up. It always happened like this, when someone asked him how he stopped Voldemort, Harry's jaw would lock, and his mind would go blank. He knew what happened – the images were vivid, but he could not tell anyone else, nor did he want to tell anyone else. They were better off without those nightmares.

"Harry will tell us when he's ready, Lily." Lupin repeated. "We can't ask more than that."

"Harry?" she asked gently. But he still couldn't look up. "Harry, look at me," she said gently.

Slowly, feeling as though there were weights on his neck, he lifted his head to look into his mother's eyes. In her face, he only saw compassion and sorrow. There was no accusation and if she felt any curiosity she hid it carefully.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Harry. I'm sorry you had to do it on your own." She reached out her free hand and brushed his cheek.

Tears were gathering in his eyes, but Harry refused to cry. "You couldn't have done anything. Dumbledore said that only two people could have chosen what would happen and that was me and Voldemort. Voldemort chose to kill you and Dad, when he didn't have to. By doing that he turned me into his enemy. I didn't have to choose to fight him, but I did, and when I did, one of us had to die."

That was no more than he'd told Ron or Hermione, or even Ginny, but it was more than Lupin had known, more than anyone else had known. He remembered the words from when Dumbledore had helped him to that realisation all those years ago, and new it was only right that he told is mother.

To Lupin's credit he gave no sign that Harry's words might have disturbed him, although Harry was sure they had. Lupin had always been careful to stay out of arguments about Harry and whether or not he was old enough to fight, much to Mrs. Weasley and Sirius' annoyance. Harry suspected Lupin had simply decided that Dumbledore knew what he was doing, and let things move at Dumbledore's pace. Lupin had probably been there simply to moderate between Sirius' policy for telling everything, and Molly Weasley's policy to not tell anything.

Maybe one day Harry would find the courage to tell everything he knew.

-------

**_Please review!_**


	4. In the Harsh Light

**Summary – **It's been a year since Voldemort was defeated by Harry. Most of the Wizarding community has moved on, but for those who were personally involved it's a bit harder. Then a something surprising arrives and Harry realises he's going to have a whole lot more to deal with now. _One minute it was smooth sailing, the next they were all in hiding, dodging Death Eaters._  
**Disclaimer – **Rowling lives on the opposite side of the world from me. You actually can't get much further away from my home than she is right now. So out of all the people in the world, I most definitely cannot claim to own Harry Potter or anything else in the wizarding world.  
**Notes – **It's a long chapter – just so you know.

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At some point, not long before dawn, Harry and Remus had returned to their beds to get some rest, and to let her get some rest. Remus had told her gently that he was just across the hall and Harry was three doors down from that, so if she needed anything she only had to knock.

Then they'd left her alone, and despite her tiredness, the bone aching weariness that had settled over her, every time she closed her eyes, she could not relax enough to let herself sleep. All she could think about was James – oh, James, her James – and Dumbledore, and Sirius, of how Peter had betrayed them all, and how that strange, dark, quiet young man with such bitter, lonely eyes was her bright shinning baby boy.

At last, restless, she did manage to drift off, only to be confronted by nightmares where Voldemort's laughter haunted her, and she had to find Harry before the Dark Lord, but no matter how many doors she opened she could not find her son.

When she woke, the light steaming through the window told her it was day, but as she had no concept of position of the sun she could not tell what time of day. On one of the chairs beside her bed someone had been kind enough to leave a towel and a mismatched set of muggle clothes. It would appear that fashion had shifted in the last twenty years.

Deciding that a good long bath would not go amiss, Lily slid out of bed. Having stayed so long in one spot her muscles felt tight and some of her joints creaked.

"RON! RONALD WEASLEY! You can't hide from me forever! You're going to have to come out sooner or later! Do you hear me!" shouted a loud, female, and completely unfamiliar voice.

Lily opened her bedroom door to see a young woman with bushy hair storming down the hall. The girl stopped when she saw Lily and offered a tentative smile. There was a scar that ran along her jaw from her chin to her left ear and another one from the corner of her left eye, curving along her cheekbone.

"Hello, Mrs. Potter. I'm Hermione – a friend of Harry's." Yes she did look about the right age, but it was strange to be called 'Mrs.'. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Hermione. I was just looking for the bathroom."

"Of course. It's down here. Let me show you." Hermione led her down a long corridor.

"How long have you known, Harry?" Lily asked, curious. She wanted to know the kind of people Harry had placed around himself, after living so long with Petunia and Vernon.

"Hmmm? Oh, about eight years now. We met in first year – both of us in Gryffindor!" she smiled warmly and Lily could help but feel a tug of pride that her son had been in Gryffindor.

"Did you meet on the train?" Lily asked.

"Ah, yes, but we weren't friends until later." Hermione lowered her voice looking embarrassed. "I wasn't the easiest person to get along with back then."

"What happened?"

"Harry and Ron helped stop a mountain troll from killing me."

"You fought a mountain troll when you were _eleven_?" The horror of it all, but they had been barely more than babies! So many worse things had happened in the years that Lily had been gone, but somehow the mountain troll seemed just as, if not more so, a terrible thing for them to face.

"Well, Harry and Ron did most of the work. They knew I was in the bathroom, and so they came back to find me."

"What Hermione isn't telling you, is that it was our fault she was in there in the first place," interrupted a soft voice and Lily just refrained from jumping. He moved so quietly, she hadn't heard him approach again. Actually, if you forgave Hermione's shouting a few moments before, then they all moved exceptionally quietly. An effect of the war? Lily wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Good morning, Harry," Lily said, still trying to understand that this stranger in front of her, this _man_, was the baby she had given birth to little more than a year earlier.

"Good morning, Mum, Hermione."

"Hey Harry, have you seen, Ron?"

"No. Have you tried upstairs?"

"Yes, and down, too. There are too many places in this house for him to hide! If you see him…"

"I won't tell him you're looking for him, Hermione."

The young woman flashed a warm smile at Harry's words. They confused Lily, as they were part of a conversation she was not yet party to. However they seemed to be what Hermione wanted to hear. "Thanks, Harry! You always were smarter than him, anyway."

"Aww, thanks, Hermione," Harry joked and for the first time Lily saw a small, genuine smile settle over her son's features. It transformed his face, lightening his features, emphasising his resemblance to James.

This time as Hermione moved off she didn't shout for Ron, who was apparently one of the Weasleys. Most likely the one that was Harry – and Hermione's – age. Lily couldn't help noticing that the girl was just as silent as she had predicted, not quite as cat-graceful as Harry, but certainly her movements were sure and even.

The smile faded from Harry's face as her turned to look at his mother, but his features remained lighter than Lily could remember seeing it yet. Part of her wondered if Harry's darkness was an effect of this dim house, and she wondered where they really were.

This was the first time that she had been alone with her son since she had woken and accused him of being a liar, and she wondered what to say, what to do. Remus had made it easy on them the night before, and acted as a buffer.

It was a position her old friend was used to as he had been used to being the voice of reason of his friends, although, as she remembered rightly, he had never really exercised such abilities at Hogwarts. Only as they all left school and started taking on missions for the Order had he really used the ability, often coming between Sirius and herself. James hadn't liked to, for fear of offending the two people he loved most, but Lupin could do so in a way that didn't offend. Perhaps it would have developed into a problem, but then they'd never been given the chance to find out, had they? She thought to herself sourly.

Her attention was drawn to the fact that Harry was speaking to her. "I'm sorry, what was that you were saying?"

"I was wondering if you'd like lunch when you're done? Mrs. Weasley will have it ready soon." Lily was surprised to hear the soft note of hope nestled in his voice, almost as Harry wished to spend more time with her.

"I'd like that very much."

This time the soft smile was for her, and it warmed her in a way she hadn't thought possible with all the shocks she'd just had.

"Do you remember where my room is?" She nodded in answer. "I'll be in there. Come in and get me, and I'll show you where the kitchen is."

"Thank you, Harry." He offered another small smile in response, before turning to go back the way he had come.

"One more thing Harry?" He turned back to her, his eyebrows raised in question. "I have to ask, where are we?"

Confusion flittered across Harry's face before a mask settled there. Lily regretted her question, but didn't know why. His next words, though told, and she began to wish she had never spoken.

"The Black family home. Sirius left it to me in his Will. I need to warn you: most of the rooms on this floor are clean, as are the ones downstairs, but there is the occasional surprise. If you come across a room that's dusty, and unused, don't go in. It may be that we haven't cleared it yet."

"Cleared it?" she asked.

"Of dark magic." Then he was gone again, nothing more than a shadow moving in a corridor full of them. It was a wonder he didn't get lost.

Then she had to wonder if he did, or was lost in this shadowy house. The war she remembered had been messy and fast. One minute it was smooth sailing, the next they were all in hiding dodging Death Eaters. Never had it been 'dark', although people had referred to it as such. They'd had each other, and they'd had their lives. Only on the days when they received word of another friend's death had their lives dimmed, but then something would happen and they'd all be off again like rabbits, startled, but not having time to stop and think.

It made her wonder desperately what her son's life had been like. Fear and loneliness gripped Lily and she wished for James, his cocky attitude that suggested that everything was going to plan. Or even just to have him there to hold her and tell her he loved her, that he'd always be there for her and their son.

In the bathroom, Lily received a shock when she glanced in the mirror. So horrible at first that she ducked back out of sight, fearing that it was a joke mirror, or worse a dark one. Yet when she looked back in it, she could clearly see the woman in it was herself, but older. Probably nearing forty. Yes, if Harry was nineteen then that would be about right. Forty.

There were lines crinkled in the corner of her eyes, and at her mouth. Her hair was still red, but the colour was less stunning now, milder, dimmed with age. She looked younger than Remus, who seemed tired and careworn. Too many years living with James' death and Sirius' supposed betrayal.

Lily had always been practical. There was too much to do, you couldn't let yourself be bogged down with worries. Looking at her face, she deciding that as no one had run around claiming how horrible she looked meant that it couldn't be too bad. Had she been left to live in this world she may have ended up looking a whole lot worse. Besides, looks were the least of her worries.

Lily bathed quickly. The bathroom was large and sprawling, and the tiles were beautiful. The room was ornate, truly worthy of a great wizarding family, but Lily felt ill at ease. Sirius had left home at sixteen for good reason, she knew. The Blacks had tended to favour Voldemort, much to the disgust of their wayward son. Now the feeling of the house and Harry's words of caution made her aware of some of the forces that had induced Sirius to take such a step.

Before long she tapped on her son's door. He appeared, stepping out into the corridor beside her and gesturing for her to follow him, with only a soft greeting. It was as if everything in this house was muted or muffled, silent and dark. Like a funeral home where everyone spoke in hushed voices, and moved around warily.

"Have you live here long, Harry?" she asked him, more for conversation than anything.

"Not really." For a moment, when they started down the stairs she thought he wasn't going to say anymore. She desperately wanted to know more about her son, but he didn't trust her. He probably trusted very few people. If she wanted answers she would have to be content with what he was ready to give her, when he was ready to give her. Lupin had been right: all she could do was wait.

"Dumbledore always sent me to the Dursleys at the start of the holidays—"

"Why?" Lily couldn't help keep the frustration out of her tone. Even if Sirius had been in Azkaban, there must have been someone more suitable to take her son.

"Because of you," Harry said simply. "According to him, you died to save me and therefore as long as I lived under the roof of someone with your blood, I was protected."

Lily sighed softly. Yes, she had heard of such things, but that didn't make it anymore pleasant. "I'm sorry I had to have such horrible relatives."

Harry's lips twisted upwards slightly in acceptance of the apology, but he said no more on the topic. Lily wondered just how awful Petunia had been to him, and cursed her sister for every time she had mistreated Harry. She swore to herself that as soon as possible she was going to go and visit her sister and they would have words.

"Before fifth year was the first time I came here. Sirius had been out of Azkaban for two years, and he wanted the Order to use this house. Wanted to feel useful. It became a prison anyway." The comment surprised her, but before she could say anything, Harry was moving on. "Christmas that year. I didn't come back again in sixth year. After sixth year, I went to Privet Drive one last time – I haven't been there since – and then I went to Godric's Hollow."

Lily ignored the flicker of emotion that ran through her. Later, she would deal with it later, when she was not speaking with her son. "I lived partly there and at the Burrow, and sometimes here, depending…"

"Depending?"

"On what I needed. There's a good library here – although the one at Hogwarts that has the best information, and I let Hermione do most of the research anyway. There's not much at Godric's Hollow, not anymore, so sometimes at the Burrow. They always seemed happy to have me, even if…" there was more he was going to say but they turned into a warmly decorated dinning room. The table was set, and already Remus was seated talking to the girl that Lily was still assuming was Ginny Weasley.

Remus stood as they entered the room and held a chair back for Lily. Harry took a seat beside her, with Ginny at his other elbow.

The red-haired young woman smiled warmly at Lily. "Hello, Mrs. Potter, we didn't get a chance to be introduced last night. I'm Ginny Weasley." She elbowed Harry out of the way and offered Lily and hand, which Lily gratefully shook. The girl was pretty and had a bright smile. There was a frankness about her bearing that Lily had to like.

Remus inquired after her health and then another young red head – male this time – slunk in. Another Weasley, obviously. He was tall and lean and had a long nose, across the right side of his face was what looked like a splatter of acid scars that didn't quite blend with his freckles. His bare arms were also had long curling marks that wrapped around them, and his skin was burned and pitted halfway up his right side.

"Ron!" snapped Ginny. "Where have you been all morning? Don't you realise that Hermione's been looking for you?"

"Ah, right, yeah," said Ron, and his eyes slid to Harry.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Don't look at me."

Ron's eyes moved to Lily next and he seemed to realise who was sitting beside Harry. "Blimey!"

"Ron. This is my mum," Harry said. "Mum, this is my best friend, Ron Weasley."

"Ah, nice to meet you," Ron said, and came around the table and shook her hand. "Look," he said to the table in general, "I'm just going to help in the kitchen." He disappeared into the room so fast that it was only the swinging doors that showed he had not disapparated.

A few moments later, Hermione appeared at the door frowning. "Has anyone seen—"

"Kitchen!" answered a number of voices.

A few seconds later, Molly Weasley, hurried out of the room, carrying a pot of soup, and loud voices, their words not quite raised enough to be distinct, could be heard through the door.

Lunch continued with a list for exploits for Lily of things Harry had gotten up to in his time at Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron had both re-entered the dining room, refusing to look at each other, but soon joined in the conversation. It would seem that her son had gotten into almost as much trouble as his father, although for very different reasons. Lily had an idea that the stories were heavily edited. Even then, though, the underlying seriousness leaked through.

Once they were done with that, they started in on the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. Lily herself had gone through seven of them at Hogwarts, but nothing like the motley lot that the teens in front of her described.

"Well, first there was Quirrell…" Hermione crinkled her nose, as if she could smell something unpleasant.

"…but he had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head…" Harry added, much to Lily's shock.

"What?" Voldemort _where?_

"But Harry got rid of him…" Dumbledore apparently hadn't minded that he already had an eleven-year-old warrior at his school.

"Then there was Lockhart…"

"…but he wiped his memory, trying to get me and Ron."

"Git!"

"After that we had Lupin." This earned Remus a number of grins. Apparently, they had appreciated him as a professor. Certainly, he must have been a relief after the two earlier ones. Of course, as Lily soon discovered, being the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't all that hard.

"Best teacher we had!" All of them nodded, heads bobbing up and down enthusiastically.

"Then there was Moody, well not really…"

"He wasn't bad. We learned a lot from him…"

"…Except it wasn't really Moody."

"Who was it?" Lily asked, puzzled. Moody, but not Moody? Speaking of Moody – was he still around. Irrationally, she hoped against hope that he was. She'd lost enough friends in this time and place.

"A Death Eater in disguise. Moody was shoved in his trunk all year, poor guy." There was a certain amount of lightness in Ron's tone. As if it were bad, but on the scale of all things that'd he'd seen it didn't even begin to approach the worst.

"That was the year Voldemort came back." No one added to Harry's comment, but Lily soon found it had bearing on the next teacher.

"Next was Umbridge." The disgust on everyone's faces told Lily how that went.

"She was the worst – even Lockhart and Quirrell were better."

"Why?" Worse than the guy who had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head, and the one who had tried to wipe their memories?

"She was from the ministry, and kept giving people detentions from saying Voldemort was back." It didn't sound bad, but Lily had no reason to doubt what they were saying. Undoubtedly there was to the story.

"That was the year Harry taught us, too," Ginny added quietly.

Lily snapped her head around to her son. "You taught?" He would have been all of fifteen.

"We had to learn it, and Harry was the only one who could teach us," Hermione said quietly, when Harry seemed disinclined to. "Umbridge was worse than useless."

"Then Dumbledore let Snape teach it." None of the faces displayed the least amount of amusement, and most of them were blank. Harry was scowling darkly into his plate.

"He knew what he was talking about," Hermione said quietly, almost timidly. She seemed anxious about the response that such a comment might receive. Now knowing the way that that year had ended, Lily supposed she wasn't surprised.

And Harry's comments sealed that thought. "But he still killed Dumbledore at the end of that year."

"I know, Harry." Neither Harry, nor Hermione were arguing. They seemed to agree with each other. Snape had known what he was talking about, but he had also killed Dumbledore, something for which was unforgivable.

"That's six."

"They didn't have a teacher the year after that, or this last year. It was just the senior students teaching the younger ones, and the other professors helping them. They couldn't get anyone to teach it. McGonagall still can't, nor for potions or transfiguration – even though she's principal, she has to teach it."

Every single one of the stories that Lily had been told over lunch had a grim ending, even the ones that had started off amusing. It made her sad that all these children had grown up knowing so much darkness. They had lived through times that far exceeded anything Lily had seen at their age, and yet they had all come through, scarred – probably for life – but with strength.

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_**Please review.**_


	5. A New World

**Summary – **It's been a year since Voldemort was defeated by Harry. Most of the Wizarding community has moved on, but for those who were personally involved it's a bit harder. Then a something surprising arrives and Harry realises he's going to have a whole lot more to deal with now. _"That's my mother! Be careful who you are calling a 'dark trick'!"_  
**Disclaimer – **Rowling lives on the opposite side of the world from me. You actually can't get much further away from my home than she is right now. So out of all the people in the world, I most definitely cannot claim to own Harry Potter or anything else in the wizarding world.  
**Notes – **Big thank you to all my reviewers.

This is for femaleprongslet, who asked for it – and I said it would be up a couple of weeks ago.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

After lunch Harry took his mother out to a small, enclosed courtyard. This had been one of the most recent projects, to create somewhere pleasant outdoors on the property. Although it was a nice place, now, it had been as full of dark creatures as anywhere in the house. Neville had been only too willing to help them get rid of the various critters and plants – some of which Harry was sure had ended up in this friend's personal collection – and then plant in the new plants, some with magical properties, some without.

The fountain, which bubbled down into a small pond with goldfish, had been a work of genius by Ginny. Before that they had actually found a kappa lurking deep in it. Now though, the water splashed in rainbow colours over a statue of a rearing unicorn into a shallow pool that held nothing more dangerous than fish, frogs and the occasional water lily.

His mother seemed pleased to be outside and walked around, looking all over the sunlit garden. She poked at and smelled all the different plants and flowers, then smiled into the pond as a frog croaked loudly. She noticed the small plaque on the edge of the pool, it read: "For Luna, a place for all things unseen." Her fingers traced the letters as she read over it silently, and then looked up at Harry, asking him about it.

"Luna was a friend of ours, she was killed by Voldemort, but her father is the editor of _The Quibbler_, a magazine about, well, conspiracies and things that usually don't exist, or haven't really happened. Luna was always talking about some crazy creature that no one could prove was real." He paused. "Everyone was mean to her at school, but in many ways she was better than all of them."

"Sounds like she was a good person."

"She was. That's why this dedication is there. We wanted to remember her properly."

"Who created this garden?" she asked, and he was grateful she seemed to be keeping topics as light as possible. He wasn't sure how much he could give her in terms of information into his life, these days most things were painful.

"Neville Longbottom," the answer was easy. Neville had only been too happy to make this into a memorial garden, especially for Luna. He said that he felt he was giving something to the Order, something useful, and he was remembering someone who gave to the Order without thinking about how it might hurt her.

"Alice and Frank's son?"

"Yes."

"Are they…?"

Harry shook his head, but didn't try to draw out her hope – it'd only be worse in the end. There was too much darkness too many things to tell her that only ended in pain. "They're alive, in St. Mungo's, tortured mindless by Bellatrix Lestrange." The sharp intake of breath told him how she had taken it.

"Everything…" his mother breathed. "Everything gone, everyone…"

Harry looked at her sympathetically, he knew what it was like, or at least could begin to understand. He'd been lucky enough that the people he lost – some of whom had been dear friends – he'd still always had Hermione and Ron…and Ginny his mind added hastily. But he knew what it was like to lose someone and to gather your strength against it only to lose someone else, to go on losing until you didn't think you could stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry," he told her softly into the silence, not sure what he was sorry for, but having to try and ease her pain anyway.

Lily closed her eyes tightly for a moment and Harry was sure he saw a drop of moisture squeeze its way out. Then she opened her eyes and they blazed into his. Before now, he'd never quite appreciated just how much they were like his own. Some distant part of him acknowledged why people always seemed to harp on about it.

"Don't apologise for something you haven't done, Harry," she told him quietly.

Harry was even less sure what to do next, but he went to sit beside her on the edge of the pond. Neither of them quite touched. He had no idea of her reasons for not reaching out to him, but Harry was afraid of what might happen if he did. The night before he had held her hand briefly. It had been warm and soft and comforting, but at the same time it had been frightening. Before him was something he didn't quite understand. Nervously, he began to shred marigold leaves.

A startled gasp drew his attention back to his mother. She was staring at his hands. Harry looked down to contemplate them. Both carried a pattern of scars that looked as though they'd had acid spilled across them – which was a pretty good approximate when it all boiled down to it – and his right still carried the white indentation of the words _I must not tell lies._

Accurately guessing that it was the writing which disturbed her the most, Harry managed a rueful smile. Those weeks in detention seemed such a long time ago now. "Umbridge trying to stomp out 'evil nasty, attention-seeking stories'."

"A _teacher_ did that to you? Didn't anyone try to stop her?"

"No one could. She had Hogwarts under control by the Ministry. Everyone just kept telling me to not lose my temper at her."

Lily shook her head, apparently too horrified for words. Harry explained about the Educational Decrees that made it possible for Umbridge to unleash her horrors on the school. He carried on about his 'life-long' ban from Quidditch, and then moved on to an abbreviated version of how Umbridge had met the centaurs and eventually left Hogwarts.

"Still works at the Ministry, though," Harry said darkly. "She's one of the ones who are trying to stop me from becoming an Auror. Something about endangering myself." He glowered into the quiet pond for a moment. There was not a hope in hell that Umbridge was doing it for her his own good. Malicious cow was doing it out of revenge. She had made more than enough such veiled attacks at members of the Order of Phoenix over the years to prove this.

Lily glanced up to give him a sympathetic look, when she her eyes drifted upwards to his forehead. People only looked at Harry's forehead for one reason. Instinctively he brushed his hair down over his scar. It would not mean the same thing to her as it did to everyone else, and Harry wasn't sure he wanted her to know what it meant.

"A curse scar," she breathed.

Harry did not like the look of mingled horror and grief in her face. Before either of them could say anymore, the door to the courtyard swung open and Ginny stepped out into the light. His girlfriend's hair shone in the sun and Harry took a second to admire it, before standing to greet her. Irrationally, he was immensely relived for her intrusion. Good timing on her part once again.

"Harry, they're here," she told him quietly. An emergency meeting of the Order of Phoenix – some of them anyway – had been called to discuss the sudden re-emergence of Lily Potter.

"Er, right," he told her. "I'll be right there." He turned to his mother, "I've got to go. You can stay here, or go back inside. Just remember what I told you about the rooms."

Mad-Eye Moody was waiting in the kitchen and gave Harry a rough nod. Mrs.Weasley, of course, along with Ginny and Ron, who were standing next to an annoyed Hermione. No other Weasley was present. However, Professor McGonagall was there. So was Neville, who greeted Harry cheerfully. Lupin sat quietly next to a wan looking Tonks, and Harry had to wonder what she was doing home in the middle of the day. All things considered it was a very small gathering of the Order, but then most of the other members would still be at their various jobs, or otherwise detained on Order business.

"We'll get this started then, shall we?" Mad-Eye began, and everyone found chairs or leaned against a wall. Harry was standing, as he always did, towards the back. Ginny was leaning against him, her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist.

"This is obviously some dark trick procured by—" but Mad-Eye got no further.

"OY!" snapped Harry. "That's my _mother_! Be careful who you are calling a 'dark trick'!"

"Mad-Eye, I hardly think she's a threat. This is certainly an incredible turn of events, but she's has seemed more shocked and horrified than anything else," Lupin said smoothly.

"There's no cause to assume that she is anything other than she appears, then?" asked McGonagall.

"No!" snapped Harry. In frustration, he turned from the group, pulling away from his girlfriend, knowing all eyes were on him.

A weighty silence ensued, and Harry stayed facing away. Ginny took his hand in hers, clasping it.

"Lad, I know you want to believe that she's your mother, but there are far too many ways for the other side to have used her as a plant," Mad-Eye said.

Harry clenched a fist, a bitter tasting anger rising in his throat. "So we're just going to assume that she's one of them."

"We can't do that!" Lupin said.

"People know her name almost as well as they know Harry's!" Tonks interjected. "Too just assume that she's part of this – we can't do that. She's a hero!"

"What about Veritaserum?" asked Hermione. She looked at him anxiously, pleading with him not to release the hot rage rushing through him at the thought of using the truth drought on his mother. "Harry, I know you don't want to think about it," she implored, "but this way we can clear her, make everyone see she is who she says she is."

Ginny's fingers curled tighter around his, restraining him. But it was all right, Harry could hear Hermione's words, and as much as he disliked them, he knew what she was trying to say. If they did this no one would have any cause to doubt that she was his mother.

"Fine," he agreed, bitterly but knowing that it was his word they were all relying on in this case.

Everyone else agreed quickly, and Harry was the one who was left to tell his mother about it

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